


Book of the Rising Star

by MrEvilside



Series: Orochimaru Gaiden [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: BAMF Orochimaru (Naruto), Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Orochimaru (Naruto)-centric, Shinobi Politics (Naruto), Shinobi War, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:20:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27287797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrEvilside/pseuds/MrEvilside
Summary: Through bloody trial and merciless error, Orochimaru matures, learns, and evolves, chasing strength first, then ultimate knowledge and immortality.From the first chapter:"If I wanted strength, I couldn’t keep wasting my time on classes about basic ninjutsu and shuriken throwing practice. I intended to graduate from the Academy the next day and begin my life as a true shinobi of the Leaf. I would be assigned to a team and trained by a jounin; I would learn techniques that my current instructors could not begin to imagine, let alone teach me; and I would fight and I would win and I would rise from the ashes of each battle, better and stronger, ever undefeated.I was going to show everyone what true strength was. I was not going to be remembered for my parents’ act of weakness, but for my own acts of strength."
Relationships: Jiraiya & Orochimaru & Tsunade (Naruto), Orochimaru & Sarutobi Hiruzen
Series: Orochimaru Gaiden [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1992406
Comments: 7
Kudos: 8





	1. Acts of Strength

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to my eleven-year-old self. You are remembered.

The night before my graduation exam at the Academy, I visited my parents’ graves, two anonymous slabs of grey stone among dozens, arranged in neat rows in a vast, empty grass field. I would not have been able to tell them apart from the others if the Third Hokage hadn’t taken me there with him so often.

I enjoyed walking to the graveyard at night, practising my footwork in the silent streets of the village, basking in the silvery light of a crescent moon instead of shielding my face from a blinding sun. I enjoyed going alone. More than anything, I enjoyed not bringing flowers.

Whenever the Third Hokage offered to take me there with him after the end of class, he would make a detour to the florist’s, without sparing a thought for the chance that I might object.

I never did. In truth, I didn’t think I minded the flowers, like I didn’t mind that the sun was setting, showering our path to the graveyard in its shimmering red-orange blood, or that the Third Hokage wanted to accompany me.

However, now that I was sitting cross-legged in the grass, unconcerned with soiling the white kimono with a purple collar that I was wearing over a sleeveless fishnet mesh shirt in the cold November air, I felt like I could take off a heavy iron mask I didn’t realise I had to wear.

A bouquet of white chrysanthemums from the week before rested on each tombstone.

I regarded the wilting flowers poking out of the wrappers, their petals now more yellow than white, and recalled the Third Hokage’s rationale for those gifts.

_‘They died protecting what was most important to them: this village and its people,’_ he would say. _‘That is the ultimate sacrifice, the greatest proof that they were worthy avatars of the Will of Fire. It is our duty to pay our respects.’_

Pulling my knees up and tucking them against my chest, I wondered why the Hokage took for granted that I would be nothing but proud of being their son, and why I had to pretend that I understood and agreed. Why was it my duty to celebrate someone’s weakness?

At the Academy, I had learnt that “war” was like natural selection: the strong triumphed and the weak perished. My parents had met a stronger opponent and died. That was the simple, straight-forward nature of shinobi life. There was nothing to celebrate. If anything, their decision to fight had been senseless. Not only had it culminated in their untimely death; it would have also killed me when I was only four years old, had the Third Hokage not been keen to offer war orphans financial help and a place in the Academy until they were old enough to make a living from their own work as ninja.

I had long since realised I couldn’t ask my questions to anyone. Not to my peers, the chuunin instructors, or the Third Hokage. The children didn’t have any interest in investigating anything other than the inside of their nose at my age, and the adults seemed to share the Third Hokage’s view, despite the fact that it was those same chuunin instructors who taught me to be the strongest shinobi I could be. I couldn’t expose my perplexity. That would have been a form of weakness, too. I needed to understand their opinion first.

So I brought the flowers, listened to the Third Hokage’s speeches, and tried to make sense of them while pretending I already did. Apparently, that performance tired me out more than I was aware of. Now that I was alone, contemplating an exam that was going to change my life, I noticed the sense of freedom that little escapade instilled in me. In contrast, the act felt all the more preposterous.

In fact – I mused to myself – even if I were to understand their reasoning, I knew deep inside that I would not agree with it anyway. I did not want to respect weakness; I only cared for strength. How could the former compare to the latter in a world dominated by war?

And, if I wanted strength, I couldn’t keep wasting my time on classes about basic ninjutsu and shuriken throwing practice. I intended to graduate from the Academy the next day and begin my life as a true shinobi of the Leaf. I would be assigned to a team and trained by a jounin; I would learn techniques that my current instructors could not begin to imagine, let alone teach me; and I would fight and I would win and I would rise from the ashes of each battle, better and stronger, ever undefeated.

I was going to show everyone what true strength was. I was not going to be remembered for my parents’ act of weakness, but for my own acts of strength. I was going to be known as a shinobi without equals, a force of nature, all the more terrifying because I didn’t need a cacodemon inside me to grant me a similar amount of power.

And my first act of strength was going to be becoming genin at six years of age, sooner than anybody else in Konoha’s history.

‘Mother, Father,’ I whispered in the darkness. ‘The next time I come here, I will be a ninja.’

An icy gust of wind, harsher than before, blew over the graveyard and whipped me in the face and across the back with my own long strands of black hair. Pulling the kimono tighter around my shivering frame, I became acutely aware of my size. It wasn’t my stature that bothered me – I expected that would change as I grew older – but I had slim limbs and a thin torso. I looked fragile.

Why else would the Third Hokage take pity on me and raise me almost as his own son? And how could I claim he was wrong? Without his charity, I would have been long dead. Who was I to call myself a strong shinobi, when I resembled a glass statuette? Who was I to dream of power, when a cold wind was enough to sweep me off my feet?

Anxiety and fatigue must have been eating away at my capacity for sound judgment, because all of a sudden I felt as powerless as only moments before I had felt on top of the world. I was almost grateful when an unexpected hiss pushed all superfluous thoughts out of my head.

I tensed and listened carefully, wondering if it might be the rustling of leaves or the wind whispering in the grass. A few moments passed. The graveyard seemed as quiet and still as if it were suspended in time. Then I saw it.

The darkness would have been too thick to notice it had it not been for its scales, white like pearls and glowing in the moonlight. It was a small snake, its flat body barely as wide as my index and middle finger held together, its head half the size of my closed fist. It was making its way towards me in the tall grass between my parents’ tombstones. Its bright yellow eyes, circled by dark purple lines, stared at me with piercing intensity.

It didn’t feel like the way a predator looks at prey. It felt like this snake knew I was human.… No. It was more personal than that. It felt as if it knew I was Orochimaru. As if it picked me out of all the people in the world.

When our gazes met, the creature raised its head above the grass and hissed at me again, bearing clean white fangs that glinted in the silvery light.

I didn’t give it time to strike. I tapped on the side of my left shoulder, pressing a button that released a kunai from the holster hidden under my sleeve. Feeling the blade slide between my fingers, I threw it at my target without hesitation.

The weapon pierced through the snake’s neck and embedded itself into the ground, pinning the creature like a needle would a butterfly. I waited to see if the snake would move. When it didn’t, I rose to my feet, intending to retrieve my kunai, but I never even took the first step in that direction, stopped in my tracks by a wondrous sight.

The carcass split into two lengthwise at the point where the blade cut through the snake’s jugular. The two halves of the creature’s small head jerked, throbbed, and suddenly sprouted new flesh, bone, and skin. In the span of a few blinks, I was looking at the same snake, except now it had two heads and two sets of purple-ringed yellow eyes.

How was this possible?

I pinched the back of my hand as hard as I could, but to no avail. This was no genjutsu. It was real.

The two-headed snake resumed its crawling towards me slowly, more leisurely than before, as if to challenge me to attack again. Finally, it came to a halt not two feet away from me, gathered its body into four coils, lifted its heads until our eyes were level, and flickered its tongues out over its two sets of thin lips first, then over its fangs, deliberately, like it wanted me to watch it. And I obliged. I couldn’t take my gaze off of it.

In the end, the snake lowered its heads and slithered ever closer to me. My breath itched in my throat; I held it. My entire body was shaking with fascination, exhilaration, and curiosity. The creature slinked so close to the fingertips of my right hand that I could feel its soft, wet scales against my knuckles. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of its tail flicking past me, then it was gone. I did not dare to move yet; I listened out for noises, but I couldn’t hear anything over the howls of the wind.

I don’t know how long I stayed there, contemplating a feeling that I had never felt before: awe. Was this what it felt like to meet a god? I stared at the hand it had touched, and saw that my knuckles were glowing with dew. How could such a small, seemingly helpless creature be a god? And yet, what manner of entity, if not a deity, could best death itself?

Eventually, it was the cold seeping under my skin that shook me out of my reverie. Spending too long out in the open, I could come down with an illness. That would have been inadvisable at the best of times: illnesses required medicine, medicine required money, and my monthly allowance only covered tuition and essentials. On the eve of my graduation exam, it would have been plain stupidity.

Before I left the graveyard, I picked up my kunai and held it up to inspect it in the moonlight. There was not a single trace of blood on it, even though I could have sworn I had seen it slice clean through the snake’s body. I slipped it back into its hidden holster and turned my heels on my parents’ graves.

In the little studio flat I called my home, I slept and dreamt of white snakes.

‘Rise and shine, Orochimaru! Are you ready?’

When that powerful bellow overcame the feeble barrier provided by my front door, I was standing before the mirror covering one of the four walls of the studio, scrutinising my reflection. Holding a small brush in my right hand, I touched my fingertips to my cheekbones with the left as I studied the purple makeup lines twisting around my eyes and reaching half-way down my nose. I thought about the white snake’s gaze from the night before, how it enthralled me and filled me with awe, how it disarmed me and made me feel like I and only I was its prey. That was how I wanted anyone – friend or foe – to think of me: with dread and wonder.

A smile tugged at my lips when I recognised the Third Hokage’s voice. I knew he knew I had been awake since dawn, and yet that was how he would always greet me on the first day of a new academic year, an occasion for which he made time to walk me to the Academy himself.

The smile brought out dimples around the corners of my mouth and made my eyes crinkle, which altered the pattern of the purple lines in a new and interesting way.

I hummed to myself at that sight, then had to abandon my position when the Third Hokage supplemented his words with a loud knock. Feeling a jolt of anticipation coursing through me, I opened the door and immediately stepped back, both to let the Third Hokage in and to draw attention to myself and, in particular, to my painted face.

He was wearing his preferred casual attire: a blue kimono with a white sash and matching collar over a fishnet shirt. With a radiant smile already spread across his face, he parted his lips to say something, then noticed my makeup and blinked a dozen times in rapid succession. I tightened my grip around the brush and stood frozen under his inspection. Finally, his smile returned, even brighter than before, and he tapped his own cheekbone, over a thin black line of kohl.

‘Well well well, isn’t someone looking fierce this morning.’

_Fierce_.

I savoured the word, letting my tongue slither over my lips like the white snake. I felt another smile creeping across my face when I met the Third Hokage’s gaze. I saw my own savage expression reflected in his widening eyes and realised my mistake at once. The concern on his face was the same he showed the first and only time I had dared to suggest we did not bring flowers to my parents’ graves.

_‘Why not?’_ he had asked.

I had shrugged. I wanted to know what that Will of Fire that he saw in my parents was; I had yet to realise the danger of revealing my ignorance. _‘Why commemorate failure?’_

At first, he had looked upon me like I wasn’t human. Slowly, his eyes had filled with pity, and he had laid a heavy hand on my head and sighed. _‘Poor child.’_

Like I was brittle. Like I was broken.

I knew what happened to brittle, broken people; I had seen them, burrowing in the poorest districts of Konoha like worms: old beggars in the streets, left homeless by the war; starving children, crippled by paper bombs; and women forced into prostitution after their husbands died on the battlefield. Brittle, broken people had no place in the world of power I intended to join. I would never let the Third Hokage – or anybody else – look at me as though I belonged with them.

I bowed my head and wiped the smile off my face. Had he not been staring, I would have rubbed it off forcefully with my hand. ‘You honour me with your presence, Hokage-sama.’

I counted the seconds in my head, waiting with bated breath for his reply. Had I given too much away? Had I finally convinced him that my mind was unstable and thus not suited to shinobi life after all?

‘Ha! None of that.’ He squeezed my shoulder and, when I raised my head, he grinned at me. My stomach dropped to my feet, crushed under the weight of my relief. ‘How many other shinobi-in-training do you think took their graduation exam at your age? Not a single one that I know of in the many years since Konoha’s foundation. I wouldn’t miss this day for the world!’

‘I haven’t graduated yet,’ I reminded him, though a smile I couldn’t suppress betrayed the true impact of his compliments.

‘This isn’t about your next accomplishments, Orochimaru.’ His brown eyes were warm with the kind of pride a father bestows upon a talented son. ‘It is about how far you have already come. Regardless of today’s outcome, you have already proven yourself a true ninja.’ He patted my shoulder. ‘You and your fellow students are this village’s future, and it’s an inspiring one at that, I tell you.’

My smile waned. ‘My fellow students?’

His grin took on an impish tinge, then he broke into a hearty burst of laughter. ‘You will find out soon! Come on now, the written exam begins in an hour.’

I liked to walk the streets of Konoha side by side with him. Although he wasn’t wearing the customary white and red robes and the triangular hat associated with his position, there wasn’t a shinobi in the entire village, regardless of age or gender, that did not stop to stare: children watched us with their mouth agape and adults bowed their heads to him, then – and not without a double take at my obvious young age – to me. I noticed every stranger’s attention linger on my makeup, and stuck out my chest and tilted my face up towards the sun to let them admire my handiwork.

Their eyes spoke words sweeter than honey: _He’s with Hokage-sama. He must be special_.

I walked beside the strongest shinobi in the Land of Fire. I was going to take the graduation exam at Ninja Academy at the age of six. I was as fierce as a white snake. I was going to be unstoppable.

Charged with a kind of energy that was more intoxicating than chakra, I couldn’t believe that only the night before I had been filled with doubts and fears of inadequacy. That version of me had died in the morning, when I put on my purple eyeshadow. Like a snake, I had shed that old skin and I was now reborn. No longer Orochimaru the orphan, but Orochimaru the shinobi.

I thought about telling the Third Hokage about my esoteric experience with the two-headed snake, but decided against it. This was not the time to stoke the fire of his suspicion. What if he forbade me from sitting the exam, concerned over my sanity? No. I would not have him take this away from me, not when it was finally within my grasp.

Moreover, I didn’t like the thought of sharing my vision. The two-headed snake had sought me out; nobody else. If it were indeed a god, it would be disrespectful to tell the story like it was a cheap fairy tale. Lastly, if it had come to me as a good omen, I would not spoil it with careless chatter.

The exam session started an hour later than standard class, so, when we entered the courtyard outside the Academy, the only students gathered around its red front doors were the oldest, who wouldn’t deign me a single glance on a normal school day. Today, they couldn’t tear their eyes off of me. I caught a whiff of the words they were muttering under their breath: “With the Hokage?” “How old is this kid?” “Another one?”

The last comment caught my attention. _Another one?_

That was when I saw them for the first time: two other young children, who stood out like me among the twenty-seven eleven- and twelve-year-old would-be genin. One was a girl with brown eyes and straight blonde hair, dressed in a teal-coloured kimono with a pink collar and matching forearm bands; the other a boy with hair as white as my complexion and an impish grin on his face, whose light blue kimono had red flames printed along the hem of the gown and sleeves. The girl had her arms folded over her chest and gave the evil eye to anyone who made the mistake of meeting her gaze; the boy stood some distance away from the rest of the group, kicking pebbles with his hands hidden in the pockets of the black trousers he wore under his kimono.

I was familiar with the girl. She was the First Hokage’s granddaughter, “Princess” Tsunade Senju. I remembered seeing the boy in class before, but he had never seemed of any consequence to me. Why were they here?

Frowning, I turned to the Third Hokage. ‘I didn’t know there were other students my age taking the exam today.’

He chuckled at my expression. ‘I like that fire in your eyes, boy. Yes, there are two other extremely talented pupils in your year.’

I didn’t yet know how I felt about it; at the moment, I was simply confused. ‘Why didn’t you tell me, Hokage-sama?’

The Third Hokage hummed and rubbed the stubble on his chin. ‘For a challenge, I suppose. I know you want to be the best graduate; I also know you expected it would be easy to prove yourself as such if you were the youngest examinee.’ I felt warmth surge from the pit of my stomach to colour my neck and cheeks. He grinned at my traitorous blush. ‘So, had I mentioned this to you, I’m sure by now you would have presented me with an entire dossier on each of them. However, a ninja will not always be prepared to face an opponent.’ He rested his fists on his sides. ‘Consider this your “exam within the exam”, if you will. So study them and do your best to surpass them.’

To my dismay, I couldn’t help the rush of blood to my cheeks at that blunt analysis of my competitive nature. I nodded, letting my hair flow down my shoulders and around my face like a protective curtain. ‘Yes, Hokage-sama.’

I wasn’t embarrassed; I was furious with myself. He shouldn’t have been able to read me that easily. The truth was, I didn’t make the same effort at dissimulating my ambitions as I did those aspects of myself that didn’t match what the adults deemed “proper”. Perhaps I should, I considered. Ambitions could become weapons in the enemy’s arsenal. Until I could count on enough strength to crush anyone and anything in my path, I would not flaunt them again.

Even those closest to me, like the Third Hokage, would never be able to talk with such confidence about what I desired.

Drawing me out of my reverie, the Third Hokage gave me an encouraging pat on the back. ‘Go on then, and good luck. I have Hokage’s matters to attend to this morning, but I will return for your practical this afternoon.’

I watched him leave the courtyard among bows and murmured courtesies, then shifted my attention to the other two youngest examinees. I sensed a smile pressing against the corners of my mouth, so I was quick at schooling my face into a neutral expression, mindful of the vow I had just made to myself. Those two might have some outstanding skill, but they couldn’t be on par with me. After all, I received the Third Hokage’s “exam within the exam”, not them. I was his favourite, so I must be the strongest.

Nevertheless, it would not do to let arrogance get the best of me. Keeping a safe distance away, so I could pretend to let my gaze wander, I observed them.

Fortunately, the boy gravitated around the girl, Tsunade, like a moth to a flame. She ignored him so blatantly that it was clear she was aware of his attention. In the end, he gathered up enough courage to walk up to her and say something I couldn’t hear nor make out, because he had his back turned on me. I could see Tsunade’s face, her left eye twitching, a vein pulsing on her temple, and her mouth twisting as she shouted, ‘Idiot!’

Then she punched him so hard that she lifted him off his feet and sent him flying across the courtyard and over the roofs of the surrounding buildings. The spectacle stole everybody’s attention, including mine, and whispers spread among the older students. Tsunade noticed their stares and shook her fist in their general direction. ‘What are you looking at, punks?!’

No one dared to answer or meet her gaze, except me. We exchanged a brief glance, then she turned her nose up, scoffed, and folded her arms across her chest, leaning against the wall of the Academy.

Satisfied with the information I had gathered, I moved away from her and closer to the entrance doors. With that incredible strength, she was likely a talented taijutsu user, which made her a potential threat, since it was the ninja art I was the least adept at. So, if the practical exam was going to involve taijutsu, I would be at a disadvantage. At the same time, if she relied primarily on physical prowess, then she might be less skilled with hand signs and genjutsu, two areas in which I excelled. On the whole, the odds were in my favour.

As for the boy, so far it seemed like his greatest ability was to irritate her. I didn’t think I would need to worry about his performance.

At last, one side of the double doors swung open, and a chuunin instructor’s black-haired head poked out. He surveyed eyes through the rectangular lenses of his metal glasses and commanded, ‘Form pairs and wait in line, please. The written examination begins in five minutes. No latecomers will be allowed.’

Well then, it seemed like the boy was not going to sit the exam after all. Even if he had survived the hit and somehow did not need a hospital, it was unlikely he would make it back in less than five minutes.

I searched for a nearby student to get in line with, when Tsunade stomped over to me and positioned herself at my side uninvited. At first I imagined she intended to befriend the only other child her age left, but a look at her scowl proved me wrong.

‘I’ve seen you in class before. You’re Orochimaru, the one who’s always getting the best grades, aren’t you?’ she asked bluntly.

I cocked an eyebrow and shrugged. ‘Yes.’

‘Good. We’ll sit together.’ Hers was not a question. I was beginning to understand just how fitting the title “Princess” was for her. She pushed a strand of her long blonde fringe away from her face. ‘At least I know you won’t try to copy my answers like that other cretin.’

If the “other cretin” was the white-haired boy, that explained what he had asked her before she punched him, which confirmed my suspicions he had no talent whatsoever I would have to concern myself with. I noted that she seemed confident about her academic knowledge and that she took more notice of her surroundings than she let on. She remembered me – even my name – although we had not shared more than a couple of classes and never talked to each other. I had to admit I was impressed. This granddaughter of the First Hokage had obviously been raised to honour her clan.

The chuunin instructor supervised the formation of the line, nodded when he deemed it satisfactory, and motioned for the first pair to enter the building.

Right as Tsunade and I were about to cross the threshold, a high-pitched voice rose behind us, turning all heads towards the entrance to the courtyard: the white-haired boy was running towards us at full speed, yelling, ‘Wait! Wait! Wait!’

He kept squealing even when it became obvious that the chuunin instructor was indeed waiting for him. I noticed, not without surprise, that the boy looked unscathed, except for a purple bruise on his swollen cheek. That and the fact that he was rushing towards us like his life depended on it was undeniable evidence of his stamina, another of my less developed characteristics.

When the boy came to a screeching halt before him, the chuunin instructor crossed his arms and frowned at him, staring him down over the brim of his glasses. ‘Jiraiya, isn’t it?’

The boy nodded as fast as he could run, his words strangled between bouts of heavy panting as he wiped sweat off his brow. ‘Y-yes, sir!’

‘Quit putting on a show and get in line,’ the chuunin instructor ordered curtly, pointing at the only girl left without a partner. Jiraiya uttered the loudest sigh that a boy of his stature was capable of, and sauntered over to stand next to her.

With that, we were led to the examination room, where five rows of desks faced a podium and a blackboard that spanned an entire wall. It might have been the biggest classroom in the building, because all thirty of us could take a seat whilst leaving an empty space between each student, as requested by the chuunin instructor.

Tsunade sprinted to secure a position in the first row, between the wall and me. As a result, I was forced to sit between her and Jiraiya, whose face fell when he realised he would not be able to copy her answers. Apparently, he was not as privy to my academic score as she seemed to be.

Once we were all seated, the chuunin instructor proceeded to distribute a sheet of paper and a pen to each of us, demanding that we keep the paper turned over on the blank side until he told us to begin.

I twirled the pen between my fingers and stole a glance at Tsunade’s and Jiraiya’s faces. She was sporting the exact same grimace as when she got in line with me, whereas Jiraiya was fidgeting and staring at the blank page in such an obvious manner that I could almost hear the cogs turning in his head as he no doubt tried to find a way to cheat without being found out.

Finally, I closed my eyes for a second and cleared my head. As the Third Hokage had told me, I had studied my “enemies” and drawn my conclusions. Now it was time to set those considerations aside and focus on the “exam outside the exam”.

After completing his rounds around the classroom, the chuunin instructor went to stand behind the podium, where he had a comprehensive view of the whole room. ‘The written test comprises thirty questions. You are given a point for every question you answer correctly; you get a point deducted for every mistake. You have an hour to finish starting from the moment I give you the go-ahead, but you can withdraw or leave at any time if you finish early. Anyone who tries to cheat will be disqualified immediately.’ Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpsed Jiraiya’s shoulders slumping and caught the chuunin instructor staring at him for a second. ‘Any questions?’ No one spoke. ‘Good. Begin!’

The crackling of paper filled the room as we turned the sheets over.

I quickly worked out that, from that moment onwards, I had two minutes for each question. I read the first one, the second, then the third, and had to hold back a triumphant smile. I knew the answer to all of them.

Easing myself into the flow of my own thoughts, which provided each solution without a fault, I put pen to paper and began to write.

Twenty-five minutes later, I stood up, well aware of the other examinees’ gazes on my back and the chuunin instructor’s eyes on my painted face. Slinking past Tsunade and Jiraiya, I noticed that she was half-way through the paper, whereas he held his head between his hands before a blank sheet. I bit down on my grin, made my way to the chuunin instructor, and deposited the sheet of paper on the podium.

He cocked an eyebrow. ‘Are you withdrawing?’

I mimicked his expression. ‘I am finished.’

Silence, punctured only by the screeching of twenty-nine pens on twenty-nine exam papers. At last, the chuunin instructor nodded to the door. ‘You may go. The practical will begin after lunch.’

I left the room without resisting casting one last glance at Tsunade and Jiraiya. I caught both of them staring at me, all the while pretending to be looking down at their desks. As soon as I was out of the room and alone in the hallway, I allowed myself the wide smile I had been fighting back the whole time.

‘Orochimaru,’ called the chuunin instructor’s stern voice from inside the classroom, shortly after Jiraiya walked out, with a dazzling grin splitting his face in two and a forehead protector clenched in his fist.

At the start of the practical exam, we had all been lined up against the wall in the hallway to wait for our turn. Tsunade, Jiraiya, and I had been left for last, most likely due to our age, and now I was the only one who had yet to take the test.

Jiraiya hardly spared me a glance as he crossed the hallway in leaps and bounds, laughing so hard that a couple of teachers emerged from their classrooms and whacked him over the head with a stick. Their exasperated faces and long sighs suggested this was not the first time they had to resort to corporal punishment to rein him in.

I clenched my fists, staring at his retreating back for a second before I turned to the door of the classroom. I wasn’t worried about passing. If that buffoon had somehow managed it, there was no doubt I would as well. It was a matter of passing the “exam within the exam”, of proving myself the most promising of today’s graduates.

Feeling the weight of my own expectations draped over my shoulders like a heavy cloak, I entered the same room I had left only hours before, wearing a crown of triumph.

The desks were all empty now, save for two in the first row: the Third Hokage was in my seat, elbows on the desktop and fingers steepled together, whereas the chuunin instructor was on the opposite side of the room, with a clipboard in one hand and a stack of forehead protectors on the desk in front of him.

The Third Hokage was decked in full white and red robes and triangular hat, his face a mask of solemnity and friendliness. For all that he was only in his twenties, he fit his role as though he were already much older. Even I, who was more familiar than most with his more playful side, did not doubt for a moment that I was laying my gaze on the strongest shinobi in the village right now.

Our eyes locked for a moment, and he winked at me. Then the chuunin instructor cleared his throat and said, ‘Stand before the podium, please.’ He gestured towards the spot he meant with one hand and spoke again once I complied: ‘The practical consists of performing one of the techniques you will have been practising in your studies. You will receive a grade for this, which will be added to the score you obtained in the written test. I will let you know what your total score is when we finish, and you will receive a forehead protector as proof of your graduation. Is this clear?’

I had known those rules all my life, yet my heart still leapt in my throat as he rattled them off like a well-oiled machine. I gave a single, brusque nod. ‘Yes, sir.’

‘Good. Please show us…’

The Third Hokage interrupted him with a polite cough. ‘My apologies, Onikuma-san. Would you mind if I chose the technique this one time?’

Onikuma-san’s hesitation betrayed the fact that the request had no precedent. I was the only one the Hokage wanted to test in a different way. I could almost visualise the war waging in the chuunin instructor’s mind between the protocol and his respect for the Hokage. At last, he bowed his head. ‘Of course, Hokage-sama. Please.’

I tilted my head towards the Third Hokage and folded my hands behind my back, the perfect picture of a perfect student. He smiled his approval and hummed for a few moments, as though he was pondering which technique to request.

When he spoke again, I knew it had all been a ruse; I knew he had chosen it long before asking Onikuma-san permission to do so. ‘Please show us the Temporary Paralysis Technique, Orochimaru.’

Neither of us smiled at the other, but I recognised the telltale crinkles around the Third Hokage’s eyes, which only appeared when he was holding back his mirth; and I was all too conscious of the grin I was hiding behind my composed façade. Onikuma-san looked between us, frowning, probably in a failed attempt to guess at the history we shared with that particular technique.

_‘What are you doing, Orochimaru?’_

The previous summer, a few months before I turned five years old, the Third Hokage had left me in his office unsupervised after class while he attended a last-minute meeting; he had admonished me to “behave” until he came back. He had then walked in on me sitting cross-legged on the floor, nose-deep into a scroll I had discovered lying open on his desk. I had looked up at him like a doe caught between a cliff and a pack of wolves, and he had burst into laughter once he peered down at the scroll and recognised the technique it contained.

_‘Curiosity is nothing to be ashamed of, boy. You can take that home with you if you want.’_

_‘Really?’_

_‘Oh, yes, but that’s a D-rank technique. You would usually learn it after graduating from the Academy, so don’t expect to master it in a matter of weeks.’_

‘Who may I perform it on, Hokage-sama?’ I asked.

This time, a small grin did creep across his face. ‘Me, if you please.’

His answer stunned me and Onikuma-san both. I was the first one to recover and let my arms fall at my sides, the long wide sleeves of my kimono covering my hands. I adopted a battle stance, one foot in front of the other, torso angled sideways even though my head was facing my target directly.

The Third Hokage rested his back against the seat, likely waiting for me to work my way through the hand signs necessary to activate the technique. His pupils dilated and his lips parted when I simply stared him dead in the eye.

His expression reminded me of a different day, not long after the first memory, a week or so before summer’s end.

_‘How did you manage this in five weeks?’_

_‘I practised, Hokage-sama.’_

I called forth my chakra, shaped it, and aimed it at him like I would kunai. It hit, too, with the same precision of a kunai. When his initial surprise subsided, the Third Hokage gritted his teeth and strained against the invisible ropes now holding him in place. I sensed his chakra rising to match mine, and doubled my efforts to keep him restrained. I felt beads of sweat gathering on my forehead and my chakra reserves depleting, but I hardened myself against the physical discomfort.

The Third Hokage furrowed his brows and tried to pry my chakra away from him with his own, yet to no avail. In a moment that felt like an eternity, I held him in my power.

Yes, doing so was taking everything I had to give. Yes, he was not losing as much chakra in his attempt to break free as I was in my attempt to maintain my grasp on him. Yes, in a true combat situation, an opponent of his ranking would kill me in a heartbeat.

None of this mattered in that instant.

All that mattered was that they were my chains he was struggling against; it was my chakra he could not overcome, albeit temporarily; it was me who was proving a challenge to the greatest ninja in Konoha.

At last, the energy required to keep the technique active brought me down on one knee. In the split-second during which I lost eye contact, he escaped the chakra-laced bindings and stood up lightning-fast, slamming his palms on the desktop, ever so slightly out of breath. I watched him through strands of my black hair, fallen over my face, as I panted hard and fought not to lose consciousness.

‘That’s… enough.’ He cleared his throat, adjusted his collar and hat, and let out one of his good-natured guffaws. ‘Ha, you really got me there! That was excellent, boy. And without using hand signs, no less!’ He tapped the desktop again, with considerable less force than a minute before, and nodded towards Onikuma-san, who, to his credit, had kept his composure throughout the test. ‘Full marks, I would say. What do you think, Onikuma-san?’

The chuunin instructor stared at me in a way no one ever had, as though I was a dangerous beast he was afraid to anger. ‘I agree, Hokage-sama. I have never seen… anything quite like that.’

And yet, his didn’t sound like a compliment. When he intercepted my gaze, he averted his own to consult and add to the notes on his clipboard. His reaction reminded me of my encounter with the two-headed snake and filled me with a sense of elation. This time, I was the snake, not the little boy ensnared by its magnetic eyes. And Onikuma-san looked upon me with dread and wonder.

‘Well then, this makes you the graduate with the highest marks in this exam session,’ Onikuma-san told me after he finished writing, though he didn’t meet my eyes again. ‘You almost got a full score on the writing exam, too. You only got one question wrong.’

The Third Hokage raised an eyebrow. ‘Did he now?’

Although every bone and muscle in my body was screaming in protest, I hauled myself to my feet and drew my eyebrows together. ‘May I ask which one?’

The chuunin instructor glanced at his clipboard once more. ‘Number twenty-nine. “You and your team are making your way back to Konoha after a mission. You encounter a group of war orphans running away from an enemy village. What would you do?” The options were, “A: Kill them,” and “B: Spare them.” You…’ He feigned a cough. ‘You chose A. As per the Shinobi Code of Conduct regularly discussed in class, “A shinobi must respect death.” The ability to kill comes with great responsibility. A worthy ninja must not take this lightly.’

The Third Hokage stroked his stubble. ‘Hm. Sounds like a small error by distraction to me. That’s one of those questions included for the benefit of under-achieving students desperate to rack up some points, isn’t it?’

I felt like this was another of those times when all the adults seemed privy to some obscure knowledge that went against common logic and yet was somehow held in the highest regard over it. Fortunately, the Third Hokage was offering me the perfect opportunity to do what I usually did and pretend I understood their reasoning.

Not so fortunately, I was down to my last drops of chakra, I was fighting against my own exhausted body for every second that I managed to spend awake, and I could feel my thoughts and inhibitions slipping away from me like sand through my fingers. So, before I could think better of it, I found myself saying, ‘Respectfully, Onikuma-san, Hokage-sama. These “war orphans from an enemy village” could be spies or undercover shinobi. And, even in the event they were nothing but orphans, they wouldn’t live long left to their own devices. In this case, killing them would be a more merciful choice than letting them die of thirst and malnutrition in a matter of days.’

The awkward silence following my words snapped me out of my fatigue-addled state. How could I have been so stupid?

I knew, even before I dared to look at the Hokage’s face, what awaited me: the expression I so detested, the one that stripped me of all my current skills and future potential and labelled me a sad orphan, brittle and broken, unworthy of shinobi life.

In the past, that look had made me want to hide and pretend to conform.

In my current weakened, uninhibited state, it made me livid. It made me hate the Hokage and his softness. How could he not see that my argument was only another sign of my brilliance and not proof that I was sad because my parents died? It was pure folly to mistake my analytical abilities for tenderness of heart, a waste of what I was and what I could do if only given the chance.

One day, the Third Hokage would see it. One day, I would show him that I wasn’t just a broken soul for him to take under his wing. One day, he and the whole village would find out what I was capable of.

‘What an interesting analysis, Orochimaru-kun,’ the Hokage commented. I winced at the suffix. He only called me “Orochimaru-kun” when he thought me _vulnerable_ , like I was a frightened kitten he ought to comfort. ‘However, it seems to me that you are making a number of assumptions, a potentially risky behaviour for a shinobi. Nonetheless, an almost perfect score in the written test and top marks in the practical leave no doubt about your outstanding achievements.’

He left his seat, took a forehead protector from Onikuma-san’s desk, and held it in both hands as he approached me in slow, solemn strides. At last, he stood before me, the forehead protector between us. I stared at the blue fabric, the smooth plaque with the stylised leaf etched on its surface, and felt my resolve hardening.

One day, the entire Land of Fire would kneel before me, my humble beginnings and pathetic background all but forgotten in the wake of my greatness.

I made to accept the forehead protector, but the Third Hokage lifted it beyond my grasp, wrapped it around my head, and tied the two straps into a knot. The metal was cold against my skin and the cloth got stuck in my hair. He took a step back and admired his handiwork with a warmer smile than when he had seen me with my purple makeup earlier that morning. ‘Congratulations. Today you become genin, an official shinobi of the Leaf. May you attain the utmost honour for your village.’

Still burning with anger and determination, I rested my hands on my thighs and performed a deep bow. ‘Yes, Hokage-sama.’

I would do everything in my power to attain honour, but not for the Leaf.

For myself.

So that everyone would look at me the way Onikuma-san did: with dread and wonder.

So that everyone would see who I was and not who they wanted me to be: a two-headed snake, strong enough to rise from the dead, and not a lonely little boy without a family.

That was going to be my ultimate act of strength.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter notes:**
> 
> 1\. I don't own _Naruto_ , but I do own this story, so please do not repost it anywhere else, or let me know if you find it on other websites. (This will be cross-posted to Fanfiction.net under the same nickname, MrEvilside, and to Wattpad under the name NikiasTomasiello.)
> 
> 2\. [This](https://naruto.fandom.com/wiki/User:Seelentau/Naruto_Timeline) is the timeline informing this work of fiction.
> 
> 3\. This volume will comprise three chapters of about 7-10k each, covering some pivotal moments in Orochimaru's childhood.
> 
> There will be two more volumes, each focusing on different phases of his life in chronological order, from early years to adulthood.
> 
> 4\. I work full-time six days a week and train for five, so updates will be inconsistent. I am however committed to completing the story and I am already half-way through the second chapter, so please have faith.
> 
> 5\. I started watching and reading _Naruto_ when I was eleven. I stopped reading after Jiraiya passed away; I could not take the direction that the story was taking.
> 
> Now, thirteen years later, I decided to share this amazing work of fiction with my partner, so we started watching the anime from the beginning and, this time, I intend to finish it.
> 
> As a result, I do not know the events following Jiraiya's death, except for some Orochimaru- and Sannin-related events that I researched out of interest and for the sake of this story. Knowing this, please try not to leave any spoilers in the comment.
> 
> 6\. Considering the Third Hokage likely provided Naruto with his flat and a monthly allowance, it would make sense he would have done the same for Orochimaru, taking an interest in him not only out of compassion because he was an orphan, but also acting in the interest of the village, since Orochimaru demonstrated such great talent for the ninja arts since he was very young.
> 
> It was a time of unrest, so the Hokage – as a military leader – would have wanted to raise any promising soldier in case of a future war, which was a very real possibility.
> 
> 7\. The question that Orochimaru gets wrong in the written exam is inspired by the Sannin's first encounter with the three Ame orphans that Jiraiya chose to save after Orochimaru suggested he would kill them instead.
> 
> 8\. The Onikuma clan does exist in the original, in case you are wondering.
> 
> 9\. I am based in England, so I write in British English, using UK conventions (such as single quotes as dialogue tags).
> 
> 10\. I have had this story in my heart for thirteen years and I am finally getting around to writing it and sharing it with you all.
> 
> Orochimaru is my favourite fictional character ever, and this work is so, so dear to me. I would love to know what you think of it.
> 
> Thank you for reading.


	2. Copper, Victory, or a Bit of Both | Part I

‘Fight me!’

I arched an eyebrow. Of all the preposterous things Jiraiya had said to me up to that moment – and there was an abundance of them – this was by far the most idiotic. ‘Why would I?’

He flared his nostrils and gritted his teeth like a crazed bull. ‘“Orochimaru this, Orochimaru that”!’ he proclaimed in an exaggeratedly deep voice. ‘I’m sick and tired of the old man talking about you all the time like you’re some sort of genius. I’m going to prove I’m stronger than he thinks, so you have to fight me!’

Behind him, hands on her hips, Tsunade threw her head back and rolled her eyes at the sky. Beside her, arms folded across his chest and eyes narrowed, Sarutobi-sensei watched us in silence. I ought to give it to Jiraiya: he might be an idiot, but he was not a coward. Few would have had the courage to imitate the Third Hokage right in front of the man himself.

Even though we had been his students for months, even I still struggled with the notion that I was at liberty to call him “Sarutobi-sensei” instead of “Hokage-sama”; that I was being trained by the most powerful shinobi in Konoha. Then again, I doubted Jiraiya’s birdbrain could truly comprehend Sarutobi-sensei’s status. That would explain his reckless lack of respect.

‘You had your opportunity,’ I reminded him, glancing at the meadow around us, bordered by thick forestation on three sides and a lively river on the fourth. ‘Right here on the Third Training Ground, if I remember correctly. It ended with you tied up to that log.’ I pointed with my chin towards three logs, planted into the ground at an even distance from one another, and shrugged. ‘I’m not interested in repeating the experience. It was pathetic enough the first time.’

Jiraiya’s hands clenched into fists, his face took on a bright red tinge, and his cheeks inflated like his head was going to burst. In the end, it was Tsunade who exploded first, drawing our collective attention.

‘By the gods!’ she thundered. To my surprise, she was glaring at me. ‘Do you have to rile him up like that, Orochimaru?’

I furrowed my brows without replying. In truth, I was not trying to “rile him up”, as she put it; I didn’t think Jiraiya was worth the trouble. I was being honest: I didn’t see the point in him making a fool of himself again, when the three of us could have carried on with our training and thus make a much more productive use of our day.

‘Ha!’ Jiraiya plastered a confident smile across his face and crossed his arms. ‘I knew it! You might look all perfect during practice, but you’re scared of a real fight!’

I narrowed my eyes at him, then I closed them, exhaled, and lifted my shoulders. ‘Fine. I will fight you.’

I was by no means rising to his pitiful bait, but, for some reason, Sarutobi-sensei was not intervening and Jiraiya could go on moaning for hours, so, if I wanted to engage in any real training today, it seemed like this was the quickest way to have my wish granted. A part of me was also curious to measure my skills in battle, I had to admit. The bell test, two days after the graduation ceremony, had been the last time I had had a taste of that. Since then, four months before, we had only performed individual training, with minimal sparring unless it was with Sarutobi-sensei, and completed D-rank missions ranging from cat-sitting to buying groceries for the elderly. It was not exactly what I envisioned my shinobi life to look like, so Jiraiya’s proposition seemed like an outlet for my increasing frustration, even though I doubted he could provide a suitable challenge. Tsunade, perhaps, but not him.

Alas, beggars can’t be choosers.

I watched Jiraiya’s Adam’s apple bob up and down as he gulped, dumbstruck. ‘Oh.’

He gaped at me for a moment, then stole a glance at Sarutobi-sensei with open anticipation, as if waiting for him to stop us. Tsunade, too, stared at him and barked, ‘Are you going to say anything, sensei?’

Sarutobi-sensei stroked his goatee thoughtfully. ‘You heard Jiraiya. He wants to prove himself to me. So be it. If nothing else, it will teach them both a lesson.’ He flashed her a conspiratorial grin. ‘Do you want to bet on the winner?’

She scoffed. ‘I’ll do you one better. I bet Orochimaru can take him down in five minutes.’

A sneer lurked under my carefully constructed blank façade, which felt more and more natural by the day in place of any other expression. Defeating Jiraiya was not going to take that long.

‘All right.’ Sarutobi-sensei clapped his hands together. ‘You two, get into position. There are no rules, except that we stop when one of you either draws blood or gives up.’

He moved over to the middle of the meadow while Jiraiya and I headed off in opposite directions – he towards the forest, I towards the river. Tsunade retreated to the three logs, vaulted on top of the one in the middle, and dangled her legs as though she were on a playground, chin resting on her cupped hands.

I counted ten strides, then spun on my heels, and found that my opponent and I were moving in unison, like partners locked into a primal dance of victory and defeat. Sarutobi-sensei stood at the centre of the invisible line drawn between us, but neither was looking at him. I stared Jiraiya down and he glared back, shifting his right foot forward and his left foot back, his preferred stance whether he intended to attack or strike one of his ridiculous poses. I redistributed my weight on my feet without changing my position. Just like I recognised his posture, he might be able to recognise my own and predict my strategy, so I was careful not to look any different than if I were going to walk home at the end of a training session. 

Sarutobi-sensei glanced at each of us in rapid succession, lifted his right arm over his head, and brought it down in a straight line, cutting through the air as though wielding a blade. ‘Begin!’

As soon as he stepped out of the way, Jiraiya rushed forward, right fist raised and a manic grin plastered on his face. I sidestepped him, threw out one leg, and smiled at him as his eyes widened and he tumbled to the ground. It might have been the first time I had ever smiled at him since our first meeting.

Much to my chagrin, he smiled back and winked at me.

Then he vanished in a puff of smoke and left a log in his place. Substitution. So the fool had learnt something from our training after all.

His downfall was his ineptitude at hiding his own chakra. Without having to look, I detected it above me and flickered to a spot two meters to my right. I sensed the air split open under his heel as he brought his foot down in the space my head had occupied mere seconds before. He landed in a squat and glanced up, but he was too slow and raised his head to get my fist right in the teeth. The impact sent him flying backwards. He landed on his back and rolled on his side with a grunt.

I watched him through narrowed eyes, ever so slightly out of breath.

Had he just tried to kill me? If his kick had hit its target, it could have cracked my skull. The notion forced me to bite back a savage smirk. Wasn’t _that_ interesting.

I prowled towards him as he slowly hauled himself up on all fours, then on one knee. I could have ended the match right then and there, when he was still lying on the ground at my complete mercy, but I took my time making my way towards him. I didn’t want it to end. Not yet.

When he realised I was getting closer, Jiraiya reached for the shuriken holster strapped to his left leg, hidden under the kimono. I threw a shuriken of my own at the ground, centimetres away from his fingers, and felt a rush of warmth surge within me when he pulled his hand away with a gasp. So this was what fighting felt like.

Like power.

At last, I came to stand before him, looming over his crouched form. He had to lift his chin to look at me as if I were the sun. He was taller than me, so I found the new perspective fascinating. He scowled at me, biting down into his bottom lip until he drew blood, and I tasted victory on my tongue.

And then, all of a sudden, he was gone with a single, mocking _pop!_

I blinked fast a dozen times, as though awakening from a wonderful dream to find myself in a nightmare reality. How had he cloned himself without me noticing? And when did that oaf learn the First Hokage’s Shadow Clone Technique? I knew he trained after Sarutobi-sensei dismissed us for the day, but I had never investigated that. I had grown complacent, too comfortable with his shenanigans and countless displays of inferiority. And now, in this battle, I had underestimated him, lost as I was in my own self-confidence and in that new, inebriating feeling that my apparent ability to overcome an opponent who intended to kill me sparked within me.

Had he led me on, pretending to be awkward and unskilled, so that he could gain an advantage over me? Had I truly let myself be fooled by _Jiraiya_?

I didn’t notice when I tightened my hands into fists and dug my nails into my palms. I didn’t notice the chakra rising to the surface of my skin to surround me like an invisible suit of armour, even though it blew through my hair and clothes like a howling gale. All I knew were the depths of… What? What was it that I felt like a gaping hole in my stomach?

At first I thought it was anger, but it triggered the same adrenaline rush I got from realising that Jiraiya could have dealt me a fatal blow had I not been fast enough to dodge him earlier. It was hunger, but not for food. I was starving for something else, something I had got a taste of during this fight, yet not enough to satisfy me or to be able to understand what it was. Did Jiraiya feel the same?

‘Hey, Orochimaru!’

At the sound of his voice, the hungry beast within me reared its head. My own blood pulsed loudly in my veins, my fingers were trembling, and my lips twitched from the desire to curl into a grin that my well-honed instinct compelled me to suppress.

I turned my head in the direction of his call so abruptly that he blinked in surprise when our gazes met. He was standing behind me, grinning, hands together in front of his chest to form the Ram sign. I sensed his chakra surging to respond to his command, and pushed mine towards him in a single, powerful wave that blew both his smile and his chakra out like they were feeble flames caught in a hurricane. He gaped at me for a few seconds, and I could see it in his blank expression that his mind simply could not process what was happening. To be fair to him, I wouldn’t have been able to explain it myself. I was all instinct. Instinct and hunger.

He began to say, ‘How did you…?’

Then he fell quiet, his face went pale, and he swallowed. I watched his Adam’s apple again. It was moving more slowly this time, as if fear clung to it like a ball and chain. He was holding my gaze like he couldn’t help himself. What did he see in it? Could he perhaps glimpse the vastity of the abyss eating away at me? That was when the answer to my own question dawned on me: No, Jiraiya was not experiencing that same abyss, or else he would have been able to counter my stare instead of falling prey to it.

When I noticed he was starting to recover from his shock, I reached for another shuriken and hurled it at him. The incoming attack pulled him out of his reverie, and he jumped out of the way. The small success reinvigorated him, for he turned to me with a new smirk on his face, albeit smaller, and shouted, ‘Ha! Too slo…!’

Before he could finish the sentence, I completed a sequence of hand signs he had been too busy dancing with my weapon to notice. ‘Shuriken Shadow Clone Jutsu!’

Jiraiya’s triumphant screeching died out when he realised the shuriken was multiplying into countless copies, until he was surrounded by an army of them, held still in the air with threads of my own chakra.

In the silence that followed – so uncharacteristic for him – I could sense his growing panic as he realised that he had no escape. Even if he were to attempt the Substitution Technique again, there were only so many times in a row he would be able to perform it. Sooner or later, one shuriken would hit the mark.

I allowed myself a moment to inhale his fear and savour it on my tongue. Training dummies, my chuunin instructors, and Sarutobi-sensei never felt truly threatened in a fight against me. They admired and praised my skills, but they weren’t frightened.

In that moment, I realised that admiration was good, but fear was so much sweeter.

And it helped quell the hunger and calm the monster in me down.

Lowering one arm like a judge condemning a convict to death, I released the first barrage of shuriken. Another puff of smoke alerted me to Jiraiya’s second attempt at substitution, so I sent out three more volleys in rapid succession.

The shuriken hissed like angry wasps as they darted through the air. Jiraiya squatted down behind the log he chose as his replacement, shielding himself from the onslaught of weapons, then spun on his heels and made a run for the trees lining the meadow, arms held high to cover his face.

I waved my fingers, pulling on the chakra strings attached to each shuriken to drop the remaining ones on him at irregular intervals in a random pattern.

The sounds of steel tearing through cotton and Jiraiya’s muffled grunts whenever he was hit blended together in a brutally harmonious melody, and I relaxed into its rhythm like a babe might relax into the rhythm of their mother’s lullaby.

If that was what it was like to have loving parents, I could understand why Sarutobi-sensei seemed so appalled that I did not miss mine.

All of a sudden, a shrill, ringing sound intruded upon my peace. It seemed to come from far, far away, worlds removed from the Third Training Ground and from this glorious moment, in which I, Orochimaru, was chasing my prey. It was Tsunade’s laughter, and in that instant I hated her for that distraction, for ruining that sublime experience.

‘Look at you, Jiraiya!’ she was yelling. ‘Running away like a pig!’

I shut out her voice and focused only on the shuriken clones and Jiraiya, who had stopped running and was leaning against a tree, panting and glaring at the remaining weapons, far too many for him to avoid.

Now that he was standing still, I could assess my handiwork: there were small tears in the fabric of his kimono all over his shoulders, back, and arms, as well as minute gashes on his face. None of the wounds were deep enough to draw blood, yet I imagined they must sting nonetheless.

I pulled the shuriken closer to him and felt the tug of a savage grin at the corner of my lips at the same time as he bared his teeth into a snarl. We both knew he wasn’t going to run again. His breathing was too erratic, his body shaking too hard from the effort. He wouldn’t get anywhere fast enough. All he could do was wait for me to attack or have mercy.

I released two shuriken at the same time. They came at him from two opposite directions, further reducing his chances of evading them. He ducked before one, but the other embedded itself into his thigh, stealing a gasp from his lips and forcing him on one knee. A crimson flower blossomed on his trousers, the most beautiful bud I had ever seen.

I licked my thin lips and wished I could lick Jiraiya’s blood instead. What would it taste like? Copper, victory, or a bit of both?

I flickered and materialised at his side, towering over him for the second time in this battle. I could have watched him in that state – helpless and subdued – forever. He raised his head and caught my eyes. Whatever he could see in them, it made his own fly wide open and his entire body stiffen. His Adam’s apple was rising and falling as fast as a hummingbird. I didn’t need to touch him to know his heartbeat was skyrocketing.

_Are you afraid of me, Jiraiya?_

I drank his fright like a starved man would drink from a spring in the middle of a desert, only to find out that it is but a puddle. It was good, but I wanted more. My hand shot up towards my shoulder, towards the button that would discharge a kunai from my hidden holster.

‘Oy…’ He cleared his throat, unable to avert his gaze from mine, prisoner of my stare like I had been prisoner of the two-headed snake’s. When I didn’t answer, he repeated himself, this time a little louder: ‘Oy! You won, all right?’ He scrambled to get to his feet, lost his balance, and fell on his backside. ‘Stop looking at me like that, you creep!’

He looked like a worm writhing in the grass. Or a pig, like Tsunade had said. What would he look like when my kunai cut him open from neck to belly button?

‘Orochimaru! Enough!’

Sarutobi-sensei’s voice struck me like a lightning bolt. The shock was strong enough to force the hunger holding me in its iron grip to release me. I felt like I could breathe again and like someone severed one of my limbs at the same time. I let my arm fall limp at my side and took a step back, putting some distance between me and Jiraiya.

_What just happened?_

I would need some time alone to find an answer to that question. In that moment, all I knew was that, if Sarutobi-sensei had not interrupted, I would have killed Jiraiya. I stared down at my palms, which bore no trace of the fight, almost like it never happened. And yet, the memories of it – the rush of chakra and adrenaline, that heady feeling of pure triumph, the taste of blood in my mouth and its smell in my nostrils – raged like a storm inside my mind.

Sarutobi-sensei appeared between Jiraiya and me and glared down at him, fists resting on his hips. ‘Are you quite done embarrassing yourself?’ Jiraiya grunted something unintelligible in response, Sarutobi-sensei sighed, and cast a sideways look at me, which I glimpsed out of the corner of my eye. ‘Orochimaru…’ Something in his gaze – something thoughtful and calculating – told me that, for all my efforts, I hadn’t been able to fully hide what came over me during the sparring match. I steeled myself for whatever reproach might come next, but he only said, ‘You fought well.’ He tore his eyes away from mine to meet Jiraiya’s once more. ‘Both of you, in fact. You still have a lot to learn from Orochimaru’s ways, Jiraiya, but you have improved. That’s all I needed to know.’

I narrowed my eyes. Jiraiya scowled at him and blurted out, ‘What are you talking about, old man?’

‘I’m sure we’re all tired of D- and C-rank missions,’ Sarutobi-sensei replied. ‘But, before I let you three take on something more difficult, I wanted to make sure you were ready. Especially you, Jiraiya. Congratulations! You passed the test. In three days’ time, we’ll leave Konoha on our first B-rank mission.’

_That’s why he let Jiraiya pick a fight with me_ , I realised. Once again, I was reminded that this was not only my sensei, but also the Third Hokage of the Village Hidden in the Leaves. I couldn’t allow myself to underestimate him; I had done that with Jiraiya, a much less worthy opponent, and that had almost cost me my victory.

‘Hey, Sarutobi-sensei!’ Tsunade materialised at his side, arms folded over her chest. ‘Just so you know, I didn’t technically lose. Orochimaru would have won in less than five minutes if he hadn’t stalled.’ She turned the full strength of her murderous glare on me. ‘What were you playing at, anyway? Sensei said to stop at first blood!’

I tilted my head to the side and scoffed. I had long since learnt not to be intimidated by her loudness. She was all bark and no bite. ‘He wasn’t bleeding yet.’

She raised one of her mighty fists. ‘As good as, you…!’

I narrowed my eyes at her. Although her hand was still in mid-air, her blow never fell and her insult got stuck in her throat. I could never resist taking advantage of the effect my slit pupils and yellow irises seemed to have on her. ‘A real enemy wouldn’t pull their punches, Tsunade.’

She gritted her teeth. ‘You were toying with him, you…!’

‘Didn’t you hear me?’ Sarutobi-sensei cut in with his most imposing tone of voice, which always commanded everybody’s silence and attention, including mine, much to my chagrin. ‘We’re going to go on a mission outside the Land of Fire in three days. This is no time for childish squabbles. I want you to go home, train, and meet me at the village entrance gates at eight o’clock in the morning on Wednesday. Have I made myself clear?’

At last, Tsunade lowered her arm and stuck her tongue through her teeth in the centre of a grimace, but nodded. ‘Yes, Sarutobi-sensei.’

‘Good. You are dismissed.’ He scratched the back of his head. ‘Orochimaru, you stay behind for a minute.’

Jiraiya glared at me once again and muttered, ‘Typical,’ under his breath. Tsunade busied herself helping him to his feet so that Sarutobi-sensei wouldn’t hear her snort. ‘Come on. Let’s go put some ointment on those cuts,’ she told Jiraiya, digging her nails into his arm and dragging him towards the exit of the Third Training Ground. ‘See you Wednesday, sensei!’

‘And don’t you go teaching him another technique!’ shouted Jiraiya before she clamped a hand over his mouth without ceremony.

I raised an eyebrow. _Another?_ I realised the oaf must be referring to the Shuriken Shadow Clone Jutsu. Indeed, it was one of Sarutobi-sensei’s signature techniques, but he had not given me extra training to learn it. Unlike Jiraiya, I didn’t need to be spoon-fed knowledge to reach even the most mediocre level of expertise.

When I shifted my attention from their retreating backs to Sarutobi-sensei, I realised he was watching me, stroking his goatee like he did whenever he was mulling something over.

‘What did you want to talk to me about, sensei?’ I asked after a stretch of silence.

‘How do you like your teammates, Orochimaru?’

I confessed to staring at him for a few seconds, dumbfounded. Of all the things I expected him to ask, this was simply not one of them. At last, I shrugged. ‘Tsunade has great strength and adequate intelligence despite her temper. Jiraiya has… stamina.’

He hummed, although I could not say for certain whether it was in agreement or not. ‘And how do you like them as comrades? Friends?’

I frowned. What did it matter? We weren’t Academy students; we were shinobi. The Shinobi Code of Conduct was clear on feelings: “A shinobi must always put the mission first.” “A shinobi must never show their tears during a mission.” “A shinobi must never show any weakness.” These were only three of the many shinobi rules clearly stating that emotions like friendship were a liability in our line of work.

Much as it frustrated me, I could not give that answer, for I was sure it would elicit the same reaction as my refusal to bring flowers to my parents’ graves.

Fortunately, it was Sarutobi-sensei himself who spared me from replying: ‘You are not endearing yourself to them much.’

I let out a long-suffering sigh. ‘I have tried to tell Jiraiya you are not giving me extra training, sensei. He didn’t listen. I got tired of justifying myself for something I am not doing.’

He stared into the distance for some time, clearly lost in thought, though I could not tell what he might be pondering. It peeved me that he could still guess my desires and feelings with reasonable accuracy despite my attempts at concealing them, yet I could not do the same with him quite as well.

‘They are jealous of your abilities.’ He nodded, more to himself than to me. ‘But you intimidate them, too. What you did today…’ He crouched down so that our faces were level and rested a hand on my shoulder. Rather than encouraging, the gesture felt commanding, like he was holding me down instead of patting me. His serious dark eyes bore into mine. ‘You scared them. Do you know why?’ When I could only frown in response, trying and failing to predict where he was going with this monologue, he continued, ‘Before I stopped the fight, you did something to Jiraiya. It’s known as Killing Intent. Do you know what that is?’ 

_Killing Intent._ The term struck me like a slap to the face. _Of course!_

It made sense now. The hunger, which fed on Jiraiya’s fear and my own sense of power over him. The look in Jiraiya’s eyes when he stared into mine. His pitiful cry: _Stop looking at me like that, you creep!_

He must have seen his own death reflected in my gaze.

It irked me a little that Sarutobi-sensei figured out I had used Killing Intent before I did, but the excitement of my discovery soon overtook every other feeling.

Belatedly, I realised he was still waiting for an answer to his last question, so I nodded. ‘Yes, sensei. We covered the subject at the Academy. Killing Intent is, as the name implies, the desire to kill one’s opponent. Sometimes, it can be so powerful as to paralyse the victim with terror, and can thus be mistaken for genjutsu.’

I was careful to keep my face and voice void of all emotion, and my gaze fixed to the ground. I couldn’t let Sarutobi-sensei catch even a glimpse of my enthusiasm. What if he decided I was too unnatural, too unstable to join him and my teammates on our first real mission? No. I was not going to give him any excuse to hold me back, even if meant keeping my elation about that new insight – and the many questions that came with it – to myself.

‘Well-prepared as usual.’

It should have been praise, but it didn’t sound like it. I felt a single drop of cold sweat running down my spine, and dug my nails into my palms as I waited in silence. With my head bent, I couldn’t see his expression, which only exacerbated my increasing horror.

Was this it? Was this the end of my shinobi career, nipped in the bud by a mistake I hadn’t even known I had committed?

‘Why did you feel so strongly about killing one of your friends, Orochimaru-kun?’

_Orochimaru-kun_.

He would only call me that when he thought me vulnerable… and, perhaps, when he _wanted_ to think of me that way. It occurred to me then that Sarutobi-sensei didn’t want to stop me from becoming a shinobi.

For one, he had always encouraged me, letting me practise techniques that any other teacher would have assumed to be above my level, challenging me to be not only the youngest Academy graduate in the history of the village, but also the one with the highest grades.

Aside from our personal relationship, great ninja make for great soldiers, and, even though the war had ended, this didn’t mean peace would last forever. As the Hokage, he had to take that into account. Denying me a life I was so obviously suited for would be a waste of potential that he couldn’t afford.

At the same time, he felt like he ought to restrain the side of me that no one in Konoha seemed to understand or accept, the side that wouldn’t cry over my parents’ weakness or spare an ally in combat.

With that single word – _Orochimaru-kun_ – he was offering me a compromise: _Prove to me that there is nothing to worry about, and I will turn a blind eye_.

If I could hide the side that he didn’t like well enough, he could pretend it didn’t exist.

My thoughts were racing in my head. Was I reading too much into that suffix? Was I delusional, desperately trying to find a way out of a hopeless situation? I didn’t know the answer. My only certainty was that my future as a shinobi depended upon my next reply. So I took a deep breath, silenced the restless voices in my mind, and raised my head to meet Sarutobi-sensei’s eyes once again.

‘I wasn’t thinking about killing Jiraiya, sensei,’ I said. ‘I was thinking of the war. Of the enemies that killed my parents.’ I made myself frown, as though I was recalling a bad memory or a nightmare. ‘I was imagining them in his place.’ I shook my head and cast my gaze at the ground again, this time to simulate remorse. ‘I would never harm one of my teammates.’

Silence opened up like a chasm between us, threatening to drive me to insanity. My heart was fluttering so hard against my ribcage that each beat made my chest throb with pain. My lungs felt like they shrunk with every breath I drew, making the next a shorter, shallower gasp. I wanted to steal a glance at his face, but did not dare.

Finally, finally, he spoke again: ‘I understand. But a ninja must never forget the difference between their allies and their enemies. Have I made myself clear?’

I was so overcome with relief that I felt dizzy and light-headed, as though I was going to pass out. It took me some time to process that I ought to look suitably subdued. I bowed my head and responded in a quiet voice: ‘Yes, sensei. I apologise for my behaviour.’

He chuckled and loosened his grasp on my shoulder. ‘I can’t stay angry at you, can I?’ I looked up to find him watching me with that touch of paternal warmth in his smile that never failed to make me feel uncomfortable. He waved his free hand in the direction Tsunade and Jiraiya had gone off to earlier. ‘Go home. Get some rest. We have an important mission ahead of us. I want you three to be at your best.’

“At my best”. Strong, but not too strong. Fearsome, but not too fearsome. Brittle and broken, but not so much that he would cut himself with the shards of my shattered self; just enough that he could gaze upon me with a fatherly smile.

_Prove to me that there is nothing to worry about, and I will turn a blind eye_.

For the first time, I understood what I needed to do to keep walking my own path without the incessant fear that Sarutobi-sensei might hold me back. That was an even greater victory than the one I achieved in the fight against Jiraiya.

With renewed confidence, I found myself hoping that this “important mission” involved enemies on whom I could test two hypotheses.

The first was inspired by Sarutobi-sensei’s suggestion: Was I truly capable of exuding such strong Killing Intent that I could bind my enemies with shackles made out of their own fear, like it seemed I had unwittingly done with Jiraiya?

The second followed on from the first: Could I control it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter notes:**
> 
> 1\. You can find the reference for what Killing Intent (Sakki) is [by clicking here](https://naruto.fandom.com/wiki/Killing_Intent).
> 
> 2\. There is a flashback at some point in the anime, showing Orochimaru as he demonstrates the Third Hokage's Shuriken Shadow Clone Technique. Sarutobi is watching and thinks about what a prodigy his pupil truly is.
> 
> 3\. Chapter 2 became way too long, so it's been broken down into two parts. As a result, there will be four parts to this first book instead of three.
> 
> It makes me a bit sad that Orochimaru-centric fanfictions are not as numerous or as popular as I would like them to be. Luckily, it also makes me appreciate those who read, leave kudos, bookmark this story, and review. So thank you!
> 
> I look forward to hearing what you think about this chapter. I don't often describe fights, so I'm keen on feedback!
> 
> Lastly, while I wouldn't call it a trailer for this story, I made an Orochimaru-centric fan video [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5ycqPxh12VU). Enjoy!


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